Horizon
by Smoltwire
Summary: How often does your world collapse? or the people you truly understand leave you? A story of those saved by their heroes, no matter how unlikely the hero may be. One-shot centric
1. The Bear and the Cub: Kuma

**Title: Horizon  
**Series: One Piece  
Rating: T

Summary: How often does your world collapse? or the people you truly understand leave you? "Maybe if we're lucky we'll wake up tomorrow." If only my hand had cracked the invisible smile off his face before he managed to completely destroy me with this lie. I completely understood that he wouldn't be back by the time the sun would rise tomorrow. Yet again, I would be alone. _A story of those saved by their heroes, no matter how unlikely the hero may be._

* * *

And the ship was sturdy, almost as eye catching as any of the women or men I had seen.

Years from now I knew I would regret never stepping onto it's timber, enjoying as the wood splintered into the paws of my feet. But I also knew I would regret not moving, not taking the chance to watch it in all it's glory. So I decided the best thing I could do was watch it as it drifted in the docks, locked in place by the taut rope that bound it. It was not uncommon to see the merchants and the fisherman, or even the several boats that clung to the docks.

Somehow, though, I found it incredibly strange.

I never had an obsession with ships of any sorts, from dinghy's to galleons, but this little life boat was peculiar even in my standards. It was indeed a lifeboat, but it was a _marine _lifeboat. The woods were painted a shining blue, and the marine symbol stood tall and proud. The wood was fine, and the boat was in good shape.

But where the hell was the sail?

"..."

I stared blankly ahead at the ship, attempting to figure out why this ship lacked a sail, and msot importantly why I was so addicted to it. It was somewhat large for one person, and yet I had come to believe it was meant for only one person. If this ship was indeed made for only one person, than they would have to be incredibly large.

"You're right on target."

If it weren't for the serene tone in the voice I would have been startled, I would have jumped. But I had known he was there for a while now, his shadow was warm but intimidating like a bears. I had sensed the immediate change in the atmosphere the minute he just _appeared, _yet I had completely ignored him. Although most would deny this, I am an ignorant person. Not ignorant as in racist or sexist, but I literally ignore the shit out of everyone or anything except for the few things that temporarily catch my interest. Such as, per say, a sail-less ship or a giant man-bear.

After a good half an hour of just _standing _I decided that enough time had passed. I had completely forgotten why i was walking past the docks, but judging by the fact that it was the docks I was probably going to purchase some fish. Swirling on the tips of my toes, I faced the bear with little interest. He was indeed tall, but only about a good six feet taller than me. The bear was old, probably about 30 or so. It was quite interesting because he didn't appear to be a giant or even a merman and yet he was immensely tall for a human being my age. Then again, I was rather short for my age so it wouldn't make a difference.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bear. You're in my way." my tone was uncaring yet somewhat direct and offensive. Maybe I should apologize... No, I didn't really feel like it.

"My apologies, Mrs. Cub." Mr. Bear stepped out of my way instantly, answering me in a rather polite tone for such an over-sized brutal-looking human being. But, in the end, I took offense to the nickname.

I **do not** look like a bear cub...

I glared at the bastard for split second, then I became the stoic young lady I had always been. My feet padded against the sturdy wood of the docks as I headed back in the direction I came from... or where I was going, I couldn't remember. I continued to tread over the wood, and then past the fish market, but I could still feel it. The cold stare on my back was... warming, it was new. It was... friendly despite my harsh and cold attitude. I had never had friends before.

I turned my head, breaking my own sense of pride, to see Mr. Bear one last time. He was still staring. I smirked, and he raised an eyebrow. I, uncharacteristically, waved. He waved back. I stopped again, in a split second, I had flipped him off and went on my merry little way. In then end, my sense of pride had urged me to walk away once again.

That was not the last time I saw Mr. Bear.

Days later I was seated lazily on the cliff on the southern part of the island, my tiny little feet dangling over the edge above the ocean. For some reason on that day I felt particularly sad. I can't remember why, but I wanted to jump. I would descend to the harsh waters below like a boulder, and hopefully smash into the sharp rocks like an egg. Life would end and I would be happy.

"What moral do you perceive from death?" I looked up at the bear as he towered over me. His presence did not shock me, nor did it please me. I hate it when people interfere.

"There is no moral whatsoever in dying, other than cowardice or false justice." I contradicted myself, I had wanted to die.

It was silent for a moment, then he spoke. "What is your perception of justice?"

I was deterred for a while, confused. Why wouldn't he leave me alone? I ended up answering anyway, "Justice... depends on where you stand. Justice is when you perceive to assist your idea of innocent others, or allow those who can change the world to survive until they are strong enough to fight on their own. Justice... is forgiveness."

"Has anyone ever given you such a justice?"

I did not hesitate, "No."

I jumped to my feet and spun on the balls of my heels. His face was unresponsive, contemplative, content. I barked out, "What is your name?"

"Bartholemew Kuma." I liked his name "And yours?"

"Hale Kabu." Once I had offered my name I had realized that we had actually known each others name the whole time. Kuma meant bear, and Kabu meant cub. I chuckled coldly, what a strange turn of events. A foreign feeling had developed in my heart knowing that I had met a person who did not question my answers and asked almost unrelated question. Bartholomew... was trustworthy. I had found a friend, and so I spilt my world.

That day ended in happiness. I was not alone when the sun had set. I was not alone. Not alone, and happy.

I smiled for the first time I had in 14 years.

The last time I met Mr. Bear was on a Friday.

When I awoke that foggy morning the stench of burnt wood plagued my nose. I was nauseous, and my head spun. Sharp pain lingered in my legs, and I could barely make out the forest floor before me. It was strange, usually my forest was cold at night. Usually the animals would murmur soft tunes for me to sleep. Usually I didn't feel like I was dieing from the inside out while fire licked at my skin.

For some reason, my vision was blurred with unhealthy amounts of smoke and metallic spilled sweetly on my tongue. It took moments too long to realize my home, the forest, had begun to burn to the ground. It took too long for me to accept that someone had struck matches with the green timbers of life surrounding me and started a forest fire. It took only seconds to realize a tree had fallen in a fury of flames, and crushed my child-like body.

I was going to die.

I let my head fall to the ground as I listened to the world around me in my last moments. I could hear voices, cold and harsh voices laughing maliciously in the distance. The cruel voices of the villagers echoed through the burning timber.

_"DIE, DEMON, DIE!" _The chant echoed over and over again. Harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. I wished they would all disappear. I wished I could see them so I could make them disappear.

Out of pure and utter luck, a burning tree fell to the forest floor allowing me sight of their wicked faces. They're smiles were contorted with hate, they're tears of joy that they had managed to 'kill' me. I smirked, and let my eyelids slip closed.

"Kashinki-" My eyelids snapped open, and my pupils dilated as the color of my iris darkened to a silky violet. "Sunappu"

The villagers froze in their moments, and one by one short strings of light evaporated from their bodies and fused with my eye. Unhesitatingly, I slammed the palm of my free hand onto the bark of a tree, and right were my hand had descended was a picture of the villagers I had captured in my sight. The real bodies of the villagers sunk to the ground, lifeless and unmoving. I could no longer see or hear them, but I knew they were alive.

I was going to die.

The wood of the trunk that crushed my back, the cold pool of crimson that boiled in the flames, and the mental burn that pulled at my heart willed me to continue to breath. I didn't know why, but I wanted to live. I wanted to gaze on the shrill waters of the sea. I wanted to fly with the wind while my feet never left the dirt. I wanted to see Mr. Bear again.

Maybe, if I had cried at the moment my tears would have extinguished the fires. I laughed. Hoarse, cold, haunting, as my dreams slipped before my eyes. Dreams, I snorted in realization- I never had any. I never had the will to live until now, either. So my laughter grew, and grew like a jackal victorious in the hunt. I was crying because the laughter burned my lungs, not because I was sad. Not because I had lived a pathetic life either, but because of the pain in my chest.

I hated lying to myself.

_"If you were to go on a trip... where would you like to go?"_

In my laughter I realized my eyes had slipped beneath my eyelids, and my body had grown cold. The crackle of fire stopped ringing in my ears, and the sounds of the dieing forest had died. Only that whisper, that warming sentence, had broken through the thick silence of death. It would be impolite to answer.

"Somewhere... where I would be happy."

* * *

**Three Months Later**

In the end I did regret. I regretted being a monster. I regretted having a dream. I regretted being human. I regretted being alive.

And yet, I regret never setting my feet on the soft timbers of the marine boat the most. I wonder, would Kuma have taken me with him, or would I be pushed into the sea without a second thought? Would I be abandoned yet again by not only my parents but by a man who saved my life?

Months had passed since I found myself on an abandoned island abundant with animal life. There were no predators, and the island was completely uninhabited by the human species. Quite peculiar for an island in an island filled world. I was completely alone, and yet I was content. I laid on the sandy beach for hours in the sun before I realized I was alive, and not in any biblical afterlife. My chest was covered in bandages, as well as my broken arms and legs.

Shifting on the sand, I held a strong gaze on the flocculent puffs of white that floated in the abyss above. The thick, yet empty veil of white was such a warming sight. Maybe there were reasons that they flew above us so high. The precipitation that drizzled from their puffs, and the reason they flew so high above had to have some reason right? Rain was obviously caused by the rising of hot steam ascending into the skies, and cooling and descending to the earth as water droplets. Yet, I was beginning to think it was immensely possible that the earth was crying as it rained, and the clouds nearly reached the stars because they were so afraid of being judged by people.

If my inference was correct then... I wish I was a cloud. A soft, fluffy cloud that would travel the world free of the spiteful human species. Yes, the humans that had caused me pain despite the fact I was human. How ironic, yet arrogant and painful.

I chuckle to myself. I think I'm becoming bipolar.

But, then again, If I was a cloud I would be able to see Mr. Kuma again no matter where he went.

Yes, I would like that very much. He saved my life after all, and I would know from the endless amounts of nature around me that life was indeed beautiful.

* * *

**Yes, I have finally completed this first part of my one-shot series. I always thought that there were probably idolize people who were considered 'bad guys' in One Piece so I wanted to make a series about it. This story will contain one-shots on different adventures of people saved by their heroes that happen to be anti-heroes in the actual series. I started it with Kuma because he's mah favorite!**

**Please, read and reveiw to share you opinion about my story!**


	2. Life: Akainu

Wow, it's been a long time... Not like anyone cares because apparently no one enjoys this story. Luckily, I enjoy writing these one-shot things, and seeing as this is the only story I've published on here so far, its the only story I **have **to write.

Last chapter, if its not obvious, she had a devil fruit power. It gives her the power to take snapshots of people's soul, suck them from their bodies, and put them somewhere else. So when she took the 'picture' of the villagers and put their 'picture' on the tree trunk, their souls were trapped there. If that picture gets destroyed then they die. The devils fruit would also give her other camera like photos but I don't feel like imagining them.

This chapter/one-shot takes place 20 or so years prior to the current events in the anime, and it should be around the time of the tradgedy of Ohara. The villain in this chapter is the Younger Admiral Akainu, the VICE Admiral Akainu. XD This occurs in the mind of a worthless slave deep in the belly of Marine HQ.

Chapter 2: **LIFE**

* * *

I twist and twist and turn and turn and spin and spin and fly. I shuffle and run and run and cry and twirl. I trip and trip and slip and slip and crawl into a glide. I cry and cry and sing and swing _as if I'm going to die_. I burn and burn and ache and ache and grip at the light. I gasp and gasp and try and try and try with all my might. I nip and bite and nip and bite and curl into a ball. I pop and pop and play and play and Par De Deux into the night. I turn and swirl and curl and ache and crawl into a glide, and slip and slip and laugh and cry and spin and spin and fly.

And I dance.

The music shudders to a close, and clapping hands resonate across the eardrums of my soul. The curtains close, and my partner falls with a broken heart. Her limbs do ache, and her leg calls for screams and she does not utter a word. A broken leg is all she pays for this moment of closure. The burn of song numbs my lungs, and I want to run away. The chains around my ankles chafe, and the ones around my wrists sting. I'm too cold to be afraid.

My heart beat slows as the rhythm that echoed in my head numbs. It's hard to breathe with the collar around my neck, and my limbs ache from all the dancing and singing. I look down at my partner, Yume, as she chokes down her screams of pain. The flesh around her right leg is a swollen and soggy violet, and you can see some of the white of her bone poking out from the back. The skin between two glossy lips peel and bleed in an attempt to silence herself. Sticks and stones may break her bones but screams can get her murdered.

They say that a sane person would cry out and fight the people causing her pain. They say a normal person would scream and cry as much as they could for help. They say a 'good' person would reach down and help her get up. They are wrong. A sane person would submit to torture if it meant saving their lives. A normal person would stay silent in the presence of their oppressor. A 'good' person would stand and watch because they know full well helping would get them both killed.

My head snaps with the pull of the chains, and Yume jumps to her weakened legs. The pitter-patter of out feet against the floor echoes alone. There are no sniffles or gasps for breathe as destiny seems to strike us in the face. Light fades farther and farther away, and the only thing we can see, hear, or feel is the bright orange flame as we follow in chains. Life feels numb again. I feel trapped again.

My heart does not stop, but my mind goes into a state of dreary consciousness. There is no light, there is no warmth, there are no cries or tears. Silence is golden in the mind of a slave and being mute is a blessing. We do not need words to survive. We don't speak. We are fed everyday, once a day. We breathe every time we lack oxygen and breathe out every time carbon dioxide fills our lungs.

This isn't living, it's surviving.

The rattle of bars echoes as we stop. Chains are unhooked, and we're pushed into the dark. Yume's breathing is erratic, and the warm familiar liquid is forming puddles on the rock floor. The wound is too deep and her bones are too cracked. She's useless now, and her time is up.

I crawl to the walls and huddle up with the rest of its occupants, and we all watch as Yume curls herself up into a ball before the entrance to our cage and into the dim lighting. It's common courtesy to make it easier for them to take your body away. It makes it easier to avoid spreading disease. It's ironic and fucked-up but its _normal._

After hours of waiting, hours without the fulfilment of any basic needs, the lights flare in the dark tunnels and footsteps echo down the corridor. From the echo of their feet, they're wearing shoes. There's no screaming, no yelling, meaning there's probably only one or two. They're frantic, but secretive. It's obvious from the echoes of their feet and the fear in their breathe that they're naval deserters. Deserters running for their lives, spinning and twisting through the tunnels that make up this labyrinth knows as Marine Headquarters.

The penalty for deserting is death.

Confusing as it was, it particularly happened all the time. New recruits come in, and they witness things. They wittiness horrors, fears, and cruel manipulation of power. Smart recruits absorb the feeling of pride and empowerment and take it into their own hands to try and obtain that power by moving up in ranks. Particularly _stupid _recruits lose their way in the halls, and wander for days and end up witnessing the horror that was _them. _That was _us. _

They usually disappeared in time, never to try to wander here again. Sometimes they would try and leave, upset the balance of control the marines had over the world and it's people, and they'd be hunted down even before they left the premises. So that was why these marines were likely to be running, because they couldn't escape what they had sought, and now they're mice trapped in the roots of our suffering.

It's _funny._

_Funny_ because they _chose _this life, because they _dreamed,_ and now despite all their _willing _choices they were down in hell like the rest of us. It was _enjoyable_ to hear their screams and cries, because it only means _we_ get to live another day. One more tyrant down, millions to go.

The footsteps get closer, and they're gasping for breathe. Gunshots are fired, but the walls still echo with splashes and scrapes. We can hear crying now, crying in pure agony, and it's evident she has been shot.

It's a she because women are the only marines brave enough to step away from the cruel behavior and tyranny of naval officers and brave enough to cry.

Besides, a male officer would probably be screaming by now. Tough guys cry hard when hit hard enough, ne?

So for a moment I sit up, and I suck in the air to fill my lungs so I can pay full attention. Others shift and sit-up as well, waiting for the show to begin. A women's voice echoes louder and louder, her cries resonating on the walls. She's afraid and I almost feel sorry for her... I chuckle to myself.

That's when the walls bounce and the floors shake and fear etches to my face. There's booming steps behind her, _heat _rising with each step. Oh god, oh god, it's a Vice Admiral. A devil user, a justice freak, prerequisite to a tyrant.

My mind numbs again, my heart shakes beneath my shallow chest, and I shudder in response. We're going to die now, because this god-damn deserter pissed of a Vice, and he's catching up to her. By the time she runs by he'll be behind her. Melting her, freezing her, slicing her, dicing her. Killing us all along with her. I scoff silently; This is pure justice.

Ironically, I feel no resentment. None at all. I'd rather die now if it meant suffering by a Vice's hand and living. Living with the scars and the pain would be worse off than what I had now.

Please kill me. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die! I want to die!

Please...

I want to live.

The cold stone floor rumbles and shakes, and for a second I'm blind. I can see her now, her shadow passing across the cage, running too slow and too late. Her shoulder's bleeding and she has no hand. She's beautiful.

Without a moments notice, we're in hell.

Screams echo in chorus with hers as hot lava burns and melts. My feat are charred and it's evident that Yume's body is melted by now. A boulder crashes in front of me as scorching lava spreads into the bars of the cage, melting the metal to ash. My feet are quick and my heart flies as I rocket to the rock. My eyes sting with fiery rage as the heat burns with magnitude. Oh god, oh god, a maiden and her baby burn before my eyes. Oh why, why can't I?

A frightening cold contrasts the flames, but the screams continue to flow. The lava's rushing, taking lives, but time continues to fly. I dodge the heat and jump from heap to heap, trying my best to keep from melting. I have both feat, both hands, and both eyes but its hard to feel my ears. Life is not fond of magma, life is not fond of me. Why am I still living?

Somehow after an escapade of death, I stand alone upon a boulder in cooling lava and flesh. I feel the burn, and it stings to move but I'm still breathing. How could it cool so fast? My mind goes blank as I realize the Vice Admiral's on the prowl with a comrade at his side to clean up after his mess.

They speak in jumbled words, too hard to hear over the beating of my heart and the ringing of my ears. I'm frightened for the thing I wished to disappear, because for some disoriented reason I want it now. I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared. I want to live.

I'm shivering in my skin, and I can already feel my burns peeling. It's getting colder, and darker. They're still talking before me. Even in the wake of a genicide, I'm still somehow just a useless tool to them. They don't even notice me. They don't acknowledge me.

"Fuck you." I meep out, and they're conversation stops. What the hell am I doing? I need to shut up!

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..." I continue to chant this, almost in a whisper. I can't stop, won't stop, because either way I'm going to die. The dark tunnels of this labyrinth of dungeons continue to freeze, as the Vice's partner continues to ice over the ashes and lava. He stops, and sighs, and turns away. He turns back down the tunnel, and away into the dark.

The Vice approaches, his loud steps cracking against the solidified lava. He almost chuckles, and I crouch into a ball in fear, continuing my chorus. Voice numb, lips charred, it's hard to sound melodous when my words croak and cry. I don't care. Kill me. Save me. Leave me alone.

"Are you questioning justice?" The Vice spoke with a stern voice, young but cruel.

Question justice? There was no justice. If there was justice I wouldn't have been taken from my home, used, and locked away again and again everyday. This was why I hate them. This _idea _is why I suffer.

He doesn't wait for an answer. He grips the feeble fabric of my clothes, lifts my fragile body into the air so I hand before him. My skins stings, and it hard to breathe. I can hear the frabric ripping in his grip.

"That women's death is justice. I refuse to let a traitor like her flee after betraying us! Deserters are scum! You, however; have survived. You are alive, strong, and agile.. You... what is your name?" He speaks as if he is right, as if he is _just,_ with a tone of superiority. I long to spit at his face, spite him, tempt him.

I do not answer.

"**What is your name**?" He lifts me higher, choking me slightly. His anger seeps out of his skin, his temper flaring. Not much for patience, obviously.

I have a rather distinct choice. I could answer, live, suffer another day. On the other hand, I can seal my lips and let him kill me. Then again, I can answer, and if I don't like his repose, I can refuse to answer anything else. That way, I'd live a tiny bit longer and suffer a little less.

I made my choice.

"Dwell E. Indo."(*) I gasp out, and he roughly dropped me to the floor.

He turned around and walked out of the jagged remnants of metal cage bars and into the distorted hallway. He waved me over, and I inched into a crawl. The ground was crusty and dark beneath my fingers, leaving streaks of charcoal on my hands. I feel disgusted; I've realized this is the spot the women and her child died. I want to cry.

He pulls me to my feet, holding me up when my legs nearly slip from beneath my feet. He's awefully gentle for a horrible man. I'm exceptionally positive he's killed with these hands. Looking me in the face, he smirks underneath that hood of his and taunts me with his eyes.

"Take that disgrace's place and I'll take these cuffs off your hands. Bring justice to that woman's death." What a manipulative bastard.

I answer, he takes my hand as if I'm a feeble child, and he leads me away. He leads me into a new life. I'm going to live.

But is it really living if I've joined something I despise?

I don't think I need to answer that for now.

_"Under my command, rise into a free, just life Indo! Follow me, Vice Admiral Sazakuzi, so we can lead this world to end the age of piracy!"_

Knowing I have a purpose at his side... I'm content for now.

* * *

* last name first rule. So his first name is Indo, last is Dwell.

Thank you to the the few people who hopefully read this. This probably would have went into later, maybe five years or so, to show how much Indo had changed but I figured it was already longer than the first chapter so it wasn't really needed.

I chose Akainu for this chapter because of one sole reason: His recent murder of our beloved Portgas/Gol D Ace. I hated him to bits because of that, but I realized that he must have, or us to, a good side to him so I decided to portray it in my own way. His idea of supreme justice had to start good somewhere. I also incorpated a lot of known facts about him to make him seem more canon (like his obsession with justice, his hatred towards deserters, and his manipulation of peoples emotions).

Words: 2,877

Please Read and Review


	3. Positive: Gecko Moria

This chapter takes place during the time period where Gecko Moria was located in the Florian Triangle with his ship, Thriller Bark. Also in the middle of that time period when Brooke invaded his ship. Taking place in the mind of an intelligent _negative,_ I think this chapter explores a world that normally isn't elaborated on.

_Positive: A Person, the person in control of their shadow, their shadow's fate, their shadow's movement, and typically their shadow's personality._

_Negative: A shadow, the being only in existance behind solid objects and is a deflection of light, controlled by the domineering person._

_**Chapter 3: Positive**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Prologue**

My being has decayed. I am translucent, phototropic, unseen, but you can still see me. I am not blind. I'm trapped in the dark. It's jet black, voracious, rapacious, concealing. My surreptitious moves glide beneath my positive side. I'm disenchanted with his moves, so solid and firm. I wiggle and wave depending on the time of day. I am a negative, his shadow.

Oh, this vile man, Hickory Jones! I'm susceptible to his disease and his cures, yet I am unfeeling to his views. He and I cause causalities, and it burns to watch and do. While he kills their positive, I eliminate their negative too. He ravages in decadent rum and alleviates his troubles with whores. He relapses, and I follow.

His captain finds no pity on his disgusting, vile soul and beats him using his fists that change into bricks. I thought only negatives could morf. I'm glad Hickory can't. My positive hurts and elapses into his mind while I suffer with the pain that he sleeps off every time. If his captain loathes his bones soo much, why does he possess the will to keep him?

I digress, today's an infrequent day. The ship groans and rattles as the seas and oceans play. My positives indecisive as they pass through dismal skies. The fog is ever somber as it besieges the skiff. Unearthing foreign soils within this abberant fog, the crew submits a ballot to determine if they should anchor. This estranged isle is ominous, deranged. The voices are cast, and it's clinched to anchor down the ship. I enjoined him not to go, but I am mute and without will. A drunkard's a fool, you know?

They call with no rejoinder, and split, divest, divide. It is only a little while before our time arrives.

The sounds of altercation resound throughout the walls. Screeching, clawing, cries echo into the sky as the night reigns high. The dark dissembles their fates and my positive flees. He's frightened, I'm pleased.

His footsteps echo into this macabre castle's walls. The embers on the wall-lamps twist, giggling at his disgruntled demeanor. My form twists and spirals with every passing light. I chortle at him. He's receiving what he deserves. Subconsciously, I hope it doesn't hurt.

At one point his mind goes dark and he faints. Our being is consumed by others, a striking pain breeches me. By that time the next day, my _eyelids_ open and I am free.

**Chapter 13: 3 Weeks Post-Awakening**

"Raise."

I lift my upper limbs willingly. He inspects my stitches, testing if their tight. He runs his fingertips across my bunumbed skin and punctures the foreign skin.

"Fosfosfosfos! Your such a delicious specimen Concros! With these blood tests I'll finally be able to see what makes you so different from that original body of yours. How is it that you were able to have such a distinct personality from your original body? So interesting, so interesting..." Dr. Hogback murmurs to himself as he injects my crimson liquid into a vile for future inquisitions.

Realization strikes him tardily, and his temper flares, "What are you doing? Leave me!"

He wallops me upside the head. Blood trickles down my muzzle and I scurry away. I can not talk back. I am in his dynasty.

Hogback's mind is beclouded and his tusks are bared. His mind is hassled and that makes him impetuous. My venerate advised me to elude Hogback because he likes my potency. My venerate is revered more than Hogback so I must accede.

My venerate is my beloved, is my cherished, precious, endeared. I am content with his tyranny and content with his smile. He is deranged, estranged, and clever. His aberrancy fulfills my empty void. I, too, am treasured by him as well. I am stronger, more acute than other gaurds and grunts. I am still inferior to generals like Absalom and Perona but I am well-liked. I am _pleasing_.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!..."

Milady Cindry greets me warmly; With several plates that shatter into my head, that is. The glass goes unnoticed and I continue to stride. Agony is not felt with this new body, although I do absorb a slight sting. It's a strange new feeling moving these limbs. It feels foreign but I can not educe it from my memories. I can not educe anything from my memories from before. They have vanished and eloped from me.

I exit the castle door and gallop to the woods. It's always dusk and always cold here, frozen like my skin. The sky is ever cloudy and the air is eternally fogged. My heart is kin to the bone-chilling air so it does not feel out of place among my feeble flesh. Why do I have scars? I do not reminisce.

I prance on past the graveyard that is concealed by a forest. Comrades are resting here. It is best not to awaken them. They get thrills from picking off my skin.

Time is swallowed by the shadows and my feet ache and rot. The southern border's tall. Its rocks are frighteningly jagged. If it wasn't for my beloved I would want to pierce my throat on its towering form. I love him so much.

It is my turn for look-out so I climb the walls to glace at the inner sea. The climb is long but I endure. There's a platform with a bell hanging on a pole for signaling. Taking my post, I being performing my duty and sharply study the waves. First starboard, then to port, and then I repeat three times. Disturbingly, fog has formed on port side by the opening gates. There should not be fog here, this is a ship. From the outer exterior walls, to the inner sea, over the border, and through the castle; This is my beloved's ship. It should not fog on the inner sea.

In delayed revelation I'm surprised to find that the look-out bell has been slashed. The rope is unspiraled at the ends and it is presumed the silver bell that once hung tightly to its post dropped into the sea. Glancing back at the waters I spot a dimly lit light. It grows closer as it scales up the wall with an unfamiliar black form.

I blink and all is lost.

The form pounces with fierce grip and I tumble down the jagged rocks. My flesh is torn and broken but air still fills my lungs. The form descends and a skeleton in full attire appears! A proper gentleman, I could tell. He apologizes and slips a salty powder into my throat.

My love, why can I not see anymore? Where has the body you'd saved gone? Where have you gone?

**-Chapter 14: Where am I?-**

My form curls and twirls behind a jolly positive. I can not feel what I touch and I can not cry. Hickory Jones is whole again, while I am trapped all alone. Concros is no more. Concros was never there.

_My love, I can not touch you._

"Hickory! Remember, set sail between their shifts and make sure to remember us when you leave here! As the only non-crewmember survivor of this place, make sure you get out alive!" A hideous woman, Lola, pats Hickory on the back. My eyes are pained at seeing her, but I no longer control them. My positive controls them. My jailor controls them!

"Sure thing guys!" he slurrs, even though he's not particularily drunk. I'm still relatively surprised he's sober. I'm sure there's a reason for that, though. He probably voraciously devoured all their rum.

The moon, again, is high in the sky and looms with a fierce gaze. Or is that the sun? Yes, the sun seeps through the fog and illuminates the area. Now possesing me, something his comrades lacked -a shadow, Hickory can freely escape from Thriller Bark. I am disgusted with antics; Only he would leave comrades behind.

I am a witness to his thoughts, and none are full of glee or promise. There is not even a slim trickle of pride or shame in his veins. There is no way he's going to come back for his newly acquired and recently abandoned _friends._

_My beloved, I can not go back to you._

His rickity life boat floats and wobbles, sheltering his hideous frame and rescuing him from fate. I want to cry out. I want to scream. I want to be able to carry out my own dreams.

I want to be free.

The sunlight gleems onto his skin and pierces his eyes, starting a riot. His voice croaks and he cackles. Barking with laughter he let out the cruel truth. He was laughing at them. He was going to live and they weren't. They had probably been here for years and he only spent a few months of his life in all consuming dark.

He had lived in glory beneath a shining beacon that I was merely a reflection of. His abandoned comrades had endured in the dusk for years and years to come yet he only experiences moments in what would be their lifetimes. He had lived where we could not, where I could not.

I despise this belligerent man.

_My precious person, thank you._

Even I can not understand what happened next. I can not remember. All I remember is the warmth of the sunlight against our skin. I can remember my passionate rage welding up inside me. I desired to pierce his throat and overpower his feeble mind. I wanted to take over.

Yet again, everything goes dark and conciousness is lost. It's a strange feeling. Before this abnormal turn of events over the past few months I had not slept or fainted before.

**Epilogue: Three Years Later**

The Grand Line is a mysterious body of water. Life slips away so easily here, and yet forms in the blink of an eye. If I sought precise enlightenment for the abnormal scenario that befell me I would probably spend the rest of my life trying to find out how and why. Yes, _my _life. I'm positive I would never waste _my _life on such a trivial matter because, as I've said, it's _my _life now.

It is my life now because Hickory Jones is no more and, technically, never was. Some how, several hundred miles from the coast in the clear blue ocean our fates were swapped around. _Somehow, _my being and his elapsed, intwined and seperated, but this time our roles were reversed. Amongst all the confusion, my mind overpowered his pitiful intellect and _I won._ I controlled this body now.

Although, at the time of the interchange I was baffled and confounded. I sought for an answer for a few months and met a generous man by the name of Vegapunk. He enlightened me that if anything had occured it was that my beloved Moria's powers had weakened the bond between me and Jones. My mind was generously superior to Jones', which was why I able to retain a free spirit even though I was a negative. When I came into control of our body it was likely that Jones' mind instantly conformed to mine. Retaining this information, I left to prosper in a life of my own.

Chances are slim, but I still hold stong emotions for my beloved and I seek to meet him again one day. Just one more time. So perhaps then I will be able to confess my endearment to him. Yes, I would enjoy that very much.

The End.

_Excerpted from Tales in the Dark by Concros J. Vermillion._

_"If I encountered him once more then perhaps I could finally rest in peace."_

_Vermillion J. Concros, Year 902-940, R.I.P_

_Died before he could meet his beloved again._

* * *

I think I'm quite pleased with how this chapter turned out. Incase it is unclear, this is 'taken' from a book written by Concros on his experiences in Thriller Bark and how he came to be. He was in fact in love with Moria, despite how... undelightful he is. In all consideration, Moria rescued Conros from a fate he simply wasn't destined with or pleased with. Saddly, He died before he could meet up with Moria again, seeing as he died at least a year before Moria would leave the Florian Triangle. The years at the end are kind of pull-crap, because I have no idea what time period One Piece takes place it.

Words: 2,375


	4. Peculiar: Eustass Kidd

**THis chapter is rather grim, so I don't reccomend it if you're easily offended. It's actually written strangely as well, so it might be confusion.**

**This centers around Captain Eustass Kidd, as he saves a young maiden whose dignity had been stolen by a strange man.**

Chapter 4: Peculiar

* * *

"Drowning like a crippled man, Oh I do enjoy the sand! I do enjoy the time that swirls and dances in the breeze, as the grains of this sandy beach foam! Jolly-ho jolly-ho! If thou art not a Romeo?" The dysfunctional man twirled on his toes and he sang his vivacious tune. A sleek violet cloak adorned his shoulder, with red designs swirling in an inharmonious pattern. The man had painted his feet white and written the word 'shoe' on his toes. Under his cloak was his bare chest, and he wore seaweed for pants. A strange, peculiar man. A peculiar man that posed no harm.

That was what she told herself, the girl who watched from the hilltop over the beach. This man was not quite sane, and not particularly 'right', but he was quite jolly. So, the young girl of age eleven observed him from the hill, writing down his poems/songs as he spewed them from his lips.

This carried on for several weeks, which soon stretched for months. By the time she realized how long it had been since she started, three years had gone by. The young maiden of age fourteen still believed in the jolly man who sat upon the beach, and that his hands could do no harm, nor cause any pain.

By the time she turned fifteen, the girl became bold and brave. She braced herself and found her will to finally greet the man on the beach. She knew that her fellow villagers did not trust him, and believed the man insane, but the girl did not believed them. The peculiar man could pose no harm.

The day quietly approached, the day she would finally greet this peculiar man. On the fateful day, a twist of time erupted and became true as a pirate ship docked late one afternoon. Notorious and noxious, the men of the crew came to land in search of food and supplies. Seeing that they caused no harm, the girl continued her way to her hilltop on the opposite side of the island. Like always, the young maiden spotted the peculiar man on the beach, but this time she approached him.

"Oh what a twisted fate she earns, this floating little flower. For if she had not fallen far she would not have wandered! Her petals soaked, so gross and toiled, this little girl's insignificant fate is soiled!" the peculiar man did not notice her yet. He was too engrossed in the endless journey of a single flower on the ocean waves.

"Excuse me, sir." The girl startled the man from his deep thoughts. He stared at her perplexed as she attempted to greet him. She held out her hand to him, but he slapped it away.

"Foolish, foolish flower! If you trample on the uncertain sand you will only experience a drought and be sucked away!" he jumped up and screamed at her. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently and shoving her away, "Come again another day! Another day!"

Confused and frightened, the girl ran back up to the hill where she was safe. Out of breathe, she peered over the cliff above the beach and watched as he tumbled and uttered confusing sentences and words. He eventually cradled himself and rocked back and forth like an infant.

The peculiar man could do no harm, nor could he cause any pain. The girl's view did not waver, and despite the scare, she planned to come again the next day.

It was nightfall by the time she reached the village again. The pirates were on a drunken 'rampage'. Their voices rumbled the neighborhood and because of their vicious ways the villagers could not bother them. A few of the pirates were drinking outside the bar, conversing between themselves. They were strangely dressed, dressing similar to steam punk style with funky colors and makeup. A disturbing red-haired man voraciously drunk three jugs of beer in one go, and his crew mates just watched. They were dressed just as strangely. One even had hair down to his knees!

However, these were pirates. Peculiar as they may be, pirates are not misunderstood and depicted exactly as how they are. Cruel but full of despair. The girl could not but want to try and avoid them. So switching to walking on the other side of the road, she clutched her notebook close to her chest as she tried her best to ignore the pirates. However, her plan met a bump in the road the second another group of pirates from a separate crew jumped out of the alleyway before her.

The drunken pirates spewed indecent words from their foul tongues and urged the rage of the fiery man in the opposing crew. A larger, heavier man, obviously the 'Captain' of the drunker crew, pushed his way through his crewman to spout a few direct insults to the rival crew himself. Before she knew it, the girl was slammed against the wall and crushed by his body. The girl scrambled to pull herself from underneath him, but the man's girth was too much. Her chest heaved and her heart raced like wildfire and her lungs were slowly crushed.

The two crews ignored her presence, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was dying here. Throwing punches and slicing at each other, the continued their altercation ignorant of her mingling life-force. By that time, a few of the townsman had come from their houses, trying to cease the onslaught. Ironically, they didn't notice her either. Her skin turning a shadier hue, the oxygen left her body as the weight started to overpower her.

Suddenly, as fast as the weight had arrived, the man was pulled from her body and thrown into the mass of bodies that was the mob. The group continued to battle, despite three other men getting knocked out in the process. The girl gasped from her position on the ground, coughing violently as oxygen forced it's way into her lungs. The fiery man from before, who had not only thrown the larger man on top of her, had thrown him back into the crowd.

The man was horribly surprised at her presence, but he wasn't able to process the thought for too long. As soon as the girl had regained her breathe, she sped off past him and the large mass of violent pirates, running far into the depths of town. The fiery man did not follow her, he just watched as she disappeared into the evening. However, when he glanced down again, he noticed a small notebook in the dark where she had fallen. Grabbing it from the dirt and dusting it off, he tucked it into his jacket for later analysis and hurdled himself back into the mosh pit.

The girl ran as hard and far as her little feet could carry her, all the way back to her home. Those pirates were monsters, vicious and cruel. They had almost killed her! Now as she gasped for air to enter her lungs and to rest her legs, she realized her years of work had been lost. That pirate! The one who caused the fight and threw the man on top of her had stolen her book!

She understood she would never get it back.

The next day, she woke up with no qualms. She didn't need her notebook to meet with the peculiar man. Everything would be alright.

The girl stood on top of the cliff and peered down to the peculiar man. He sat like very other day, peering at the waves and wiggling his hands in front of his face. Alas, there was a difference today. After moments of observing, he turned his gaze to the sky and smiled right at her.

She took that moment to run down to greet him.

"Poor maiden, poor maiden, the sand. You've stepped upon the sand." He said grimly, smiling widely.

She stood before him, smiling just a wide, and said, "I know, but I don't understand why that is bad."

He smiled, "Little flower in the sand. Close your eyes, little flower, so the sand may suck you dry."

He grabbed her, "Little flower, you are mine."

The monster took her as she screamed into the daylight.

* * *

Captain Eustass Kidd of the Kidd Pirates strolled lazily down the dirt road, skimming through the notebook in his hands. The sun had begun to set and he would need to get back to his crew soon. A night of drinking and bar fights had tired him out, so he'd earned a moment to himself.

The teen who'd dropped it the night before was sure delusional. Half the crap in this little book were poems, poems that didn't make sense. Some of the shit creeped the crap out of him. Almost half of the literature could be translated to some messed up shit, like rape and murder. Why the hell would a teen girl be writing stuff like this?

His thoughts were cut short when he looked up and saw a weeping silhouette stumbling down the road. Blood dripped down the girl's thighs and her clothes barely hung to her skin. As a pirate who pillaged towns and murdered others there was one thing he was sure he'd never do. Kidd nearly gagged to himself, hesitantly edging his way up to the girl. She trembled as he got closer, but her legs were to weak to carry her away.

He dropped his cat on her shoulders and shoved her notebook into her hands. He'd recognized her from the night before, and now he'd understood.

The only way a girl like herself would right something like that was if she was quoting someone else.

"Where's the guy who did this?" he ordered, gripping her shoulder gently. She didn't look into his eyes.

"The beach."

"That's all I need."

She watched him as he cracked his knuckles and brushed past her.

Perhaps she had been wrong about pirates. After all, she'd been wrong about the peculiar man.

* * *

**Yes, this is rather a fucked up chapter, but I enjoyed writing it. Kidd ended up murdering the man who raped the young girl, because there are some things even vicious pirates like Kidd think are wrong. Technically, Kidd is a antagonist, because he's a rival of Luffy's, so he counts.**

**Read and review please?**


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